I can't seem to put a finger on it,
the resonance of every memory
a trickle of fear,
as vast as an ocean
contained by an anxious tongue.

As with a heightened state of anxiety,
my thoughts scatter
and the ways of old surge within me
only to make me realize im the last one of my kind
but I cannot let it die...
and i won't

So I move around day to day, feeling sick
nothing in particular excites me
reprimanded for something i don't believe in
or what i do not want to create
and any ways of self expression are questioned
....in the fullest degree

what I create with my hands is so precious
something you can't quite grasp
For me there is no place to hide
So in my troubled head I will ask

What exactly is left in me?
what does it take to set me free
i'm feeling like my soul is dying
and i can't see the light

For every day I go through my mind
is one more day I'm tied to myself
never reaching my potential
but closer to reaching yours

I've read this like three times trying to think of something to say. And I've finally found the words! I think that we all wonder and question life every day. It's hard to know what your "potential" is or what you want out of life but as long as you keep living I believe it will come eventually. (That's me being an optimist! lol) I also believe this is so relatable to many people right now with so many people losing their jobs and having uncertain futures because of it. I really wish I had more to say but I don't... except that I like it and you should post more. :)

I like this one, a thoughtful introspection of a seemingly flat existence. I guess we all go through these stages, which, as you say, one cannot put one's finger on it. And yet the answer is plain. A need to create is in all of us, --- to bake a cake, write a book, whatever! Just pick something to do and focus on it, and bingo, -- away you go, positive. Cheers Ted.